


here at the wayside

by withoutwords



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 08:55:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: “I gotta get back,” Callum says, running his fingers through his hair as if that will help how shagged he looks. Ben’s eyes track those hands - hands that had grabbed at his neck, his shoulders, had pulled at his hair. Hands he'd had in his mouth.He’ll mess around with plenty of guys next week, next month, and yet it had to be this one he got hooked on. Why this one?





	here at the wayside

**Author's Note:**

> this is just some random scenes, as we move through the next few weeks or so. just total self indulgence because I’m obsessed with them and need some way of getting them out of my system haha. also, there's a fair bit of sex - in case that's not your thing! 
> 
> hope you enjoy!

The night they open the doors to  _ The Prince Albert _ , Callum’s sitting in Ben’s office chair at the car lot and letting Ben blow him. Ben enjoys the irony - half a village celebrating Pride while the two of them secretly hook up in the dingy dark of  _ Maximum Motors.  _ He’s pretty sure they’re not what people had in mind when it came to equality for all.

It doesn’t matter. It’s been too long. Ben’s not sure who’s more desperate for it: Callum with his throaty whines or Ben with his hands clenched in the strong meat of Callum’s thighs. It’s not something he always enjoys, but having Callum here, touch, taste, smell, he’d happily do it all night if it meant he wouldn’t leave.

“I’m gonna - Ben - stop - ” Callum’s saying, trying to push Ben off him, while Ben’s saying,

“I can keep going, ya don’t have to - ”

“No, I ain’t…”

Ben sighs and sits back on his heels, getting a strong hand around Callum’s long, wet cock and jerking him until he comes with a muted, breathy shout (making a mess of both of them). 

“What’s that about, then?” he says, later, when he’s tucking himself back into his jeans and trying not to look too disappointed. “Too gay to come in my mouth?”

“Don’t…”

“Right, right. We can  _ do _ it, we just ain’t talking about it.”

“I gotta get back,” Callum says, running his fingers through his hair as if that will help how fucked out he looks. Ben’s eyes track those hands - hands that had grabbed at his neck, his shoulders, had pulled at his hair. Hands he'd had in his mouth.

He’ll mess around with plenty of guys next week, next month, and yet it had to be this one he got hooked on. Why this one?

“Uh, you might wanna,” Ben starts to say, pulling Callum over by a lapel and helping him tuck his shirt back in. They both stink, they must, and there’s no way Callum’s going back to the club without changing - but Ben does it anyway. “There. Good as.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

They stand in each other’s space for a moment, looking but not moving. Callum’s ridiculous big ears have gone neon pink and his bottom lip is bright red where he’d been biting down on it.

Ben can’t be bothered trying to stop himself. He just gets a hand around Callum’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss - all open mouths and teeth and groaning.

“This ain’t - ” Callum starts, pulling away, and Ben can’t help but laugh at him.

“What? Happening? It didn’t happen before and it ain’t happening now, is that it, yeah?”

“I have to get back to the party, alright? They’ll wonder where I am.”

_ They _ , he says, as if they don’t both know he means  _ Whitney _ .

“Sure. You go, have fun,” Ben says with an angry smirk. “Go celebrate all the liberated gays and pretend you don’t wish that was you.”

He turns away and listens as the door closes behind Callum as he leaves.

*

Ben’s been a pretty average dad. It’s not like he doesn’t see the cycle repeating. Phil stuffed him up, and maybe he’ll stuff Lexi up - and maybe it’ll just keep going until someone decides no. Enough’s enough.

Ben wants to be that someone,  _ he does _ .

The difference, he knows, is that he’s loved Lexi more in her short life than Phil’s loved Ben in  _ all  _ of his. She could be queer, or fail school, or decide to live on a farm raising goats and Ben  _ would not care _ . He’d love her no matter what.

The problem could never be Lexi.

The problem will always be Ben.

“Was Whit serious?” he asks Callum, sitting across from him at the Funeral Home and pretending he’s there to see Jay. “About having kids?”

“What?”

“That day at the park, when I was with Lexi. She said youse were talking about kids.”

“Oh. I donno. We’ve not talked about it, not properly.”

“Do  _ you _ want them?”

Callum puts his pen down to sit up and look at Ben properly. He wears that stupid suit every day - sleeps in it for all Ben knows - but there’s still something about it. The way it sits across his shoulders. Ben wishes there wasn’t always so much space between them.

“What’s this about? Are you winding me up again?”

“No, I’m just thinking.”

“About me and Whit?”

“About being a parent,” Ben says with an eye roll. “About  _ me _ , being a parent.”

Callum softens. It’s in his eyes, and shoulders. He just deflates. “I’ve seen you with Lexi. You’re a good dad.”

“Oh yeah? You think?”

“Sure. It’s …” Callum sighs and leans his elbows onto the desk. “My dad never did the things you do. Taking her to the park, taking her out for food. It’s those things that matter, ya know? Not how much money you got, or, or having nice things just … just being together. Spending time together.”

Ben can’t get over his sincerity. For all his anger, and all his posing - he cares. And Ben’s glad he gets even the smallest of glimpses. “Thanks. That - ”

“You two done skiving off or what?” Jay growls as he comes out from the back room, holding a box of Ben-doesn’t-want-to-know-what and shoving it into Callum’s arms. “Only I got a business to run here and apparently no bloody assistant.”

“Sorry, sorry, on it,”Callum says, and disappears, not even sparing a glance back.

*

Once he was gone, he never missed Walford. It had been the dream with Paul, anyway, to get the hell out of there - to escape the dark cloud of families, and pasts, and move on with their lives. A rebirth, Paul had joked - funeral humour - but it wasn’t so far from the truth.

Reinvention.

Now that he’s back he’s more Ben Mitchell than ever. Trying to get rich quick, trying to ruin his dad, trying to come out on top without losing his way. It’s just him now, no one else is going to help make sure he wins. He’s got this. He’s doing it.

There’s just the one minor snag.

“Stop it would ya,” Callum says when he stalks over to Ben’s booth at  _ The Vic _ , putting his bottle on the table to lean in close.

“What?”

“You keep looking over. You might as well be wearing a fucking sign.”

“You got tickets on yourself, mate. I didn’t even know you was here.”

Callum scoffs at him. “Right. Just been sitting here by yourself for half hour for no reason then?”

“Who’s watching who?”

“Just go, yeah? Just …”

Ben doesn’t go. The crowd gets bigger, and a few people stop to say hi, and he’s got a good buzz going, ordering another beer before heading to the loo. Callum walks in as the only other bloke walks out and it’s just the two of them again - always the two of them in the seediest places.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Ben teases, resting back on the wall to get a good look. No suit and tie tonight - all collared shirt and jeans, Callum shoving his hands in the tight space of his pockets. Ben wishes they were his.

“Why are you always here?”

“Where? The bog?”

“ _ Here _ . In my face.”

“I  _ live _ here. What d’ya want me to do, disappear?”

“I wouldn’t hate it, yeah.”

Ben bites back on the hurt he feels, pushing off the wall to move closer. Callum’s always got that look, that half-scared, half-needy  look; always at the edge of admitting he wants it, or denying it ever happened at all.

“Sorry, wasn’t born with that superpower. I am a pretty stellar shag though, so I’ve been told.”

Callum just shakes his head.

“Anyway, what’s that matter, if I disappear? You think you’re gonna stop being gay because I’m not around?”

“I ain’t - ”

“Right, right. It’s just me that gets you going, yeah? You’re Ben-sexual. Nice. I like that.”

“God, you’re  _ so _ \- ”

Ben doesn’t bother letting him finish that thought, lunging forward to take his face in both hands and kiss him. He’s dead weight, at first, just gasping into Ben’s mouth - before getting his hands free of his pockets and clawing them into Ben’s hips.

It’s stupid - right here in the middle of the bathroom - but Ben can’t help himself and Callum isn’t stopping him.

When they end up in an empty stall and Ben ends up with his hand around the both of them - he lets Callum have it. His face close and his breath on his neck and his voice in his ear, telling him everything he wants to,  _ you’re so fucking fit, you feel so good, I want this, I always want this. _

He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere.

*

Ben’s got plenty of flaws. The big ones - the major fuck ups that will follow him forever - but smaller ones too. Always forgetting to put the milk back, never replacing the loo roll, never knowing or caring when he’s making people uncomfortable with his banter.

That’s just a start.

He’s also got a jealous streak about a mile long. As a kid he always wanted the better bike, or the bigger toy, or the newest game. Maybe it was because he really liked it, or maybe it was because someone else had it and he didn’t. 

As a kid you just have a tantrum. You kick and scream and make demands until a grown up gets tired of listening to you. As an adult, the solutions never so clear. You can buy, cheat or steal if it’s just a thing - but it’s never just a thing.

It’s never simple.

“Who’s the old geezer with your lover boy?” he asks Whit as they stand out the front of the cafe. She’s watching them too - Callum’s having a heated chat with a man a foot shorter than him, and it’s definitely about something more serious than dinner plans.

“It’s his dad,” Whit says with her arms folded, her anxiousness rubbing off on Ben. He didn’t even know Callum had a dad - and not one that would just be showing up. “They don’t get on.”

“You’re telling me.”

It takes less than a minute for the conversation to turn physical, Callum’s dad pushing him up against a wall with his elbow. Ben hears himself shouting, “Oi,” before he even realises he’s running over, bulldozing him off Callum and nearly knocking the old bloke off his feet. “What the fuck’re you playing at?”

“Ben, don’t!” Callum yells, putting an arm out to stop him, but there’s no point now, he’s on a roll.  _ This _ he knows how to deal with.

“Pick on someone your own size,” Ben sneers as Callum’s dad comes back to square off with him, and he’s ready to go, to just leave all his shit at the door - but a patrol car slowly rolls up to the curb.

“I’ll be seeing you later,” the old man hisses at his son, Ben spitting at him as he walks away.

“Are you stupid?” Callum growls at Ben, forcing him to turn and face him. Whit had joined them at some stage, clutching at Callum’s arm like an anchor. Ben couldn’t look.

“Callum, don’t, he was only trying to help!”

“I don’t want it, alright?” He pushes at Ben’s chest. “I’ll sort it myself.”

“Right, it really looked like you were sorting it.”

“You think fighting him’s gonna make him go away? I tried that a long time ago.”

“Well  _ try harder _ .”

Callum smirks at him, not amused, not just teasing. He knows that look, he used to wear it all the time - the one you get good at when you have a childhood like theirs. “You do that with your old man, do ya? Show him who’s boss.”

“Well he don’t push me around no more.”

“Sure he don’t.”

“Callum,” Whit says, pulling him back, and for one stupid, fleeting moment Ben almost reaches out to pull him back. “We don’t want no fighting, alright Ben, just stay out of it.”

Ben watches the two of them walk off, heart in his throat when Callum looks back at him. 

He feels like a little kid, wanting what’s his.

But no, not because someone else has him.

Because he really, really likes him.

And that’s a lot harder to deal with.

*

They’re still planning a wedding, is the thing. Ben overhears them at the Funeral Home, and in the Cafe, and at  _ The Vic _ . He sees Whit showing Tiff Bridal magazines, listens to Jay going on about venues, and lets Lexi sing songs about being a flower girl, though Ben’s not sure she knows what it means.

They’re getting married. And short of making an announcement in the Village Square and outing Callum to everyone - there’s nothing Ben can do to stop him. He can talk all he wants, they can screw around every day, and Callum will still be Callum.

Not ready.

“Why’re you always doing that?” Callum asks after they’ve hooked up at the car lot - Ben sprawled out in his chair and Callum getting dressed. He’s moving slower today, usually always in a hurry, putting his work suit back on with purpose and precision. Ben likes to watch.

“What?”

“Playing with your ring? Are you thinking about Paul?”

“No,” Ben bites back too quickly, dropping his hands. “Just. Habit. Or something.”

“Like a nervous thing?”

“Why would I be nervous?”

Callum just shrugs. “You tell me.”

“You know, this was fun,” Ben says, getting out of his chair so fast it spins behind him. “Orgasms, psychotherapy - but you should probably be going, yeah? Women to lie to, weddings to plan.”

“Oh, sorry, did I make ya think about ya feelings or something?” Callum grumbles under his breath, and Ben stops. 

“What?”

“You know. Big Bad Ben Mitchell, he don’t say nowt if it’s not with his fists.”

“You’re having me on,” Ben says, staring him down, and to his credit Callum just stares right back.

“Am I?”

“You’re coming here, away from your girlfriend, to get something you can’t get nowhere else, and  _ I’m _ the one hiding things?”

“That aint -”

“I don’t see you sitting there telling me any more about how you’ve got everything you ever wanted but you’re still lonely. Huh?”

“That’s different, I ain’t talking about that. I’m talking about you, and how you’re so angry  _ all the time.” _

“I fucking wonder why,” Ben bellows at him, and this time Callum backs down. He just blinks at Ben as if he can’t believe it actually worked, he actually got a rise out of him. “Everywhere I go I see you with Whit. Every person I meet wants to talk about you and Whit. Every time I have you, you run outta here ‘cause you gotta go meet  _ Whit _ . Course I’m fucking angry, Callum, Jesus.”

“Ben,” Callum says softly, reaching out, but Ben goes with the momentum.

“I play with my ring, and I bite my nails and I even punch walls sometimes, ‘cause I’m annoyed and frustrated and so fucking angry that I can’t just have ya all to myself.”

“Ben, please,” Callum tries again, closing in, but Ben’s too exposed now, too raw. He throws up his hands.

“Just go.”

*

Ben’s mastered a few tricks over the years. How to get away with things, how to run around with criminals, how to get your end in without your dad finding out you’re gay. He might not be the smartest, or nicest bloke on the block, but he’s canny. He knows things.

He finds solutions.

“We’re spending a night in town,” he tells Callum when he walks into the Funeral Home, throwing down some papers onto the desk. It’s been a few weeks since Ben made an arsehole of himself, telling Callum the truth about how he felt.

They’d barely seen each other since.

“Who?”

“You and me.”

Callum throws a look over his shoulder, as if Jay can hear them through all the walls and doors. “What are you talking about?”

“City Hotel. Saturday night. I told Jay I needed your help with a car sale and he said as long as you’re up for it, fine.”

“Well I ain’t - I can’t-”

“Sure you can. This weekend. I’m going in the day before so I’ll meet you there.”

Callum hollers after him but Ben ignores it and heads back to the car lot. He’d put it all on the line already - what was another big gesture? He could pretend he was tougher than this, move on with another Grindr hookup; but it would never be enough. 

As long as Callum let him, Ben would take and take and take.

*

 

Ben keeps busy all day, Saturday. Meets with potential clients, finds some new places to source his motors, goes running until he’s out of breath and his legs are shaking under him.

Tries to ignore his phone.

It hits 5, and then 6, and by the time it gets to 8 o’clock he’s started to convince himself it’s all over. He orders food and puts on a movie and tries over and over again to swallow around the lump in his throat. Around all the self loathing he wants to hurl at himself. 

At 8:45 there’s a knock at the door.

“You’re here,” is all he can say to Callum, dressed in jeans and a shirt and carrying a small duffel over one shoulder.

“I’m here.”

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside, sweeping his arm out to direct him. “There’s beer, and food, and some totally naff film with that bloke from Love Actually, whatshisname.”

Callum smirks at him. “Love Actually?”

“It’s a classic.”

“It’s _shit_.”

“No beer for you then."

Ben settles back on the bed, and Callum gets rid of his shoes and they sit and joke around for a while, having a drink and sharing the curry. Its like two mates catching up on holidays - lovely and gentle and innocent.

It's not who they are. Ben was so sure of this, and waited so long for him, and now that he’s here he doesn’t know what to do. He’s stupid.

“Ben,” Callum finally says to break the pretense. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, because he’s not Richard Gere. This isn’t a movie. “I just wanted to be with you. Proper like. A room, a bed, just … proper.”

“You know I can’t give you nothing. I can’t give you what you want.”

“I know.”

“Do ya? Because if it’s too much, if it’s - ”

“Hey, no, no,” Ben crawls over the bed and half into Callum’s lap, grabbing the back of his neck. “I just want ya, alright? I know you’re with Whit, that you can’t … I just want ya, and I want this. Tell me ya want this.”

Callum nod at his, eyes dark, saying, “Yeah,” before Ben’s assaulting him with a kiss and pushing him down on the bed. Trays and bottles and cutlery go flying as they start to strip each other off - the cool, soft touch of the sheets beneath them such a strange but welcome feeling.

When Callum rolls them over, and Ben’s sprawled out on his back, it’s almost hard to believe it’s real. Callum on top of him, around him, his mouth at his neck and throat and chin and mouth - wet and sweet and owning.

“Fuck me,” Ben all but begs, wrapping his legs around Callum’s waist, teasing his half hard cock with his hip. “Waited so long, Cal, please.”

“I ain’t - I never-”

“I know, I know, it’s fine, I’ll help ya.”

They go slow, torturously slow - Ben opening himself up and Callum watching with awe, and it’s erotic and sexual and the most intimate he’s been with any one since Paul, the most honest he’s let any one see him.

Callum rolls on his own condom and slicks himself up and it’s impossibly perfect, the way he slowly pushes into Ben, the way he rolls his hips in waves, building and building and building. Ben gives back as good as he can, wanting so much for this to be perfect for Callum too - pumping his hips and urging him on and telling him how great it is, how great he is, how amazing they are together.

“Fuck, Ben,  _ fuck _ ,” is about all Callum’s good for, making sweet sounds from low in his throat and letting it all get away from him.

They just move together like that, fast and deep and heaving, and Ben’s not sure who comes first or what happens next except that they lie in each other’s arms for the first time and it’s almost better than everything else.

*

Ben dreams that night.

Callum meets him at the Cafe, kisses his cheek and drinks from his mug.

They talk, and Ben can’t make out the words, but they’re smiling. They’re happy.

They’re together.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to join me at [tumblr](http://thefancyspin.tumblr.com) to share the love, send me ideas or meta or prompt or just generally be silly about these two because I'm obsessed :D


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